100 Ways to Solve Writer's Block
by Miss Kisharoo
Summary: My entries for the 100 Prompts Challenge, or, as I like to call it, "100 Ways to Solve Writer's Block". There will be angst, friendship, slash, femmeslash, romance, violence... Ehhh, a bit of everything. I hope you enjoy my relaxed little drabbles of... interesting-ness.


"**I have an announcement to make!"**

_Featuring: Albus Severus Potter_

* * *

"Mom… Dad… everyone… I have to tell you something. I think I'm—"

Albus paused, the dreaded word lost in his throat. He closed his eyes and tried to cough them out, tried to be confident that it would all be okay, but he couldn't. Instead he turned and vomited into the toilet.

Why did _he_ always have to be different? Why did _he_ always have to be the outcast? Why was _he_ the Slytherin? Why was _he _so much unlike his brother and his sister? Why couldn't he just be normal? Why did he have to be—

He vomited again, unable to even think of the word.

Clutching his stomach, wishing that the pain would go away, Albus stood to stare at himself in the mirror. He was pale and blotchy, his eyes were bloodshot, and his hair had become a matted mess overnight. He looked much older than he should have at fourteen, aged by complete fear.

He just wanted it all to be over. He wanted it to go away. Maybe it was a disease like some muggles said, something that could be cured with medicine and counseling. Or maybe there was a potion to make him better, stronger, more handsome… to change him and whatever this was.

"I want to change," Albus whispered, staring into his own green eyes as the mirror reflected him. He clutched his stomach tighter. "Why can't I change? Why do I have to be this way? Why do I have to be so _different_?"

His shaking knees buckled and he sat there, legs beneath him, rocking himself in place. Tears streamed down his face as he reminisced how simple it had been when he was younger, how a lullaby was enough to soothe him into sleep. It had been so easy to forget his worries then. It had been as simple as warm milk, a story, a lullaby, and a kiss. But there had been something else…

And he remembered. The kiss had been accompanied by four words: "We love you, Al."

It was all he had to go on, but it was enough.

Albus pushed himself into a stand, threw the door open, and trudged down the stairs, but with each step he grew more and more fearful. Suddenly he was in the living room, where his father, mother, and siblings had congregated at the kitchen table. The dinner that he smelled, usually appetizing, sent bile into his throat. He tried to perservere, tried to speak, but it only came out in a thin whisper of: "Everyone… I…"

The chit-chat continued. Of course they didn't hear him. They were too busy talking about Quidditch and other stupid things… But Albus couldn't – wouldn't – take a back seat like he normally did. He wouldn't take it quietly and just suck it up. Not now.

"I HAVE AN ANNOUNCEMENT TO MAKE!"

And suddenly all eyes were on him, staring at him. A wave of nausea fell over Albus as every scenario rushed through his head. What if they hated what he was? What if they didn't want a weird son like him? What if they said he was an outcast… told him that he should change himself… If they could tell him how, he'd do anything – _anything _– to be accepted. Everything.

And then the worst realization came to his mind, causing him to shake with heaving sobs.

What if they stopped loving him?

"Al, what is it? What's wrong?"

He just shook his head. They didn't understand. They wouldn't understand. They deserved a son who wasn't a freak, a perfect son like James.

"You can tell us… What is it?"

"I'm gay."

He hadn't meant to say it, he hadn't wanted to say it, but it just came out. He couldn't have stopped it if he tried, no matter how much he didn't want to be disowned and unloved…

But through his vision, blurry with tears, he could see his family rising from his seats. He closed his eyes tightly as though that would make time go backwards, as though that would change him.

They were coming closer, he could hear them. They were about to tell him to leave. The last thing he'd see of those he'd loved was their disappointed faces.

Then a hand touched him, and another and another, and Albus was pulled into a tight hug.


End file.
